


Poland | A Faint Glow of Hope

by EvAEleanor



Series: Seven Shades of Summer [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, Community: Seven Shades of Drarry, Curses, Flowers, Folklore, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Healer Hermione Granger, Herbology Professor Neville Longbottom, M/M, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Mythology References, POV Draco Malfoy, Slavic mythology, Solstice, Summer Solstice, Unspeakable Draco Malfoy, poland - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:34:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24779215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvAEleanor/pseuds/EvAEleanor
Summary: On Draco’s 25th birthday, somebody attempts to curse him, but Harry Potter jumps between them and is hit instead, with unexpected consequences. Potter is running out of time, and they both embark on a race against time to find the only cure that could save Harry. Little do they know they will need to face a myriad of magical creatures and their own feelings on the way.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Seven Shades of Summer [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788955
Comments: 12
Kudos: 68
Collections: Seven Shades of Drarry





	Poland | A Faint Glow of Hope

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of the [Seven Shades of Summer anthology](/series/1788955), the second in a series of planned collaborative projects within the [Seven Shades of Drarry](/collections/Seven_Shades_of_Drarry) collective.
> 
> The Fern Flower is a mythical flower in Slavic mythology, blooming once a year on the eve of the Summer Solstice. Depending on the country and tale, the flower can bring the finder various things — from fortune over luck to the ability to converse with animals. The flower is, however, said to be closely guarded by evil spirits.  
> Traditionally, Summer Solstice — or Kupała — is celebrated on the 6 or 7 July. This has to do with the fact that the Eastern Orthodox Church still, in parts, uses the Julian calendar. The 6 July on the Gregorian calendar is the 23 June in the Julian calendar. 
> 
> There’s also a playlist created for this anthology that can be found [here on Spotify](https://spoti.fi/2TEsvGg); one song for each of the seven fics included in the collection.
> 
> Song: “Faraway” by Apocalyptica

The sun is hanging low on the horizon, the longest day of the year is about to end. The last rays of sunlight are piercing through the trees. At dusk, it will be time; then they can finally enter the forest.

Draco knows he needs to calm down. He's taking one deep breath after another, but it’s not working. His mind is running overtime, going through every detail of research. Silently, he prays that his sleep-deprived brain will be able to recall the important facts when needed.

Around the pair of them, everything is quiet, peaceful — literally magical. The closer they’ve come to the forest, the more he’s felt its power, and he knows Potter has felt it, too. He’d love to come back here under different circumstances, but, at this moment, it’s the most fear-inducing sight. Draco is sure his blood currently consists of 70% adrenaline. Every heartbeat crashes like a wave through his entire body. He’s fighting the deep-rooted, primal urge to flee. Thinking about it, it’s the most sensible thing to do.

He wonders how Granger, Weasley and Potter had done it for so many months during the war; throwing themselves headfirst into everything, figuring things out on the go, not knowing what would happen, or if they'd come out alive.

And even if this doesn't work out, they still have time, right? Granger will find a solution. She’s gotten him out of so many precarious situations before; this one’s no different. It can’t be different. He can’t be the reason that this is happening to Potter.

* * *

5 June

Outside Florean Fortescue’s, Draco is sitting at a table, waiting for Narcissa, Andromeda, Teddy, and, of course, Potter to turn up. Every weekend, they take turns on looking after Teddy, although they usually end up doing it together on most of them — taking him to the zoo or a playground, visiting Longbottom at Hogwarts, or building pillow forts at Malfoy Manor or Grimmauld Place.

Draco spots a turquoise-haired boy being carried on broad shoulders and his face splits into a smile. Though he and Potter aren’t thick as thieves — no matter what the press says — the forced proximity of being roommates during their eighth year of Hogwarts helped a lot to overcome their childish feud and turn it into a good friendship.

After Potter lets him down, Teddy runs towards Draco, who gets down on one knee, his arms outstretched wide, ready to catch him. Then everything happens so fast. Draco sees somebody pointing a wand at him, moves forward, grabs Teddy, and shields the boy by turning away from the attacker.

The spell doesn’t hit him because Potter — the pillock — leaps between them, preventing the spell from hitting its intended target by being all Gryffindor and playing the hero, using his own body and a Protego as a shield. At least, that’s what Draco assumes.

Not until Andromeda is by their side and he’s checked that the attacker is gone, does Draco release his cousin from his grip, telling his aunt and mother to take Teddy inside. Scowling, Draco turns his attention to Potter.

“I’m fine,” he says, rearranging himself.

“You’re an idiot, Potter,” Draco scolds.

“Is this how you thank somebody who probably just saved your life? And when will you finally call me Harry?”

“Once you stop doing shit like this, you brainless fool. Aren’t you past self-sacrificing yourself, yet? The act is getting old.”

“Well, old habits and so on… Now, let’s get some ice cream and check if you have any new grey hairs.”

“How dare you,” Draco says in mock betrayal. “You’re sure you’re all right, though?”

“Yes, I’m the embodiment of health and youth.” Potter waves his hand in a circle in front of himself, gesturing at all that is him.

The perfect retort is already on Draco’s tongue when Potter breaks into laughter, and Draco has a hard time keeping a straight face.

“Come on, birthday boy. Ice cream’s on me today.” Draco feels a hand at the small of his back, and together they make their way towards the shop.

“Ouch,” Potter exclaims, suddenly faltering in his step and placing a palm on his chest, right over his heart.

“Okay. You’re clearly not fine. And no, I don’t want to hear any excuses. It’s my birthday, so you do as I say.”

“Draco…” Potter whines.

“No, Potter. We’re going to St Mungo’s. Let me just talk to the others for a moment and then we’re taking the Floo. Granger will rip my head off if I don’t get you there asap. Not to mention, Mrs Weasley; that woman scares the shit out of me.”

* * *

Present day

In quick steps, Draco walks over to Potter who’s currently sitting on a rock, his head leaning back against a tree, sleeping. His usually olive skin is pale and looks a bit lost in the hoodie that he’d filled out so well not even three weeks ago. Granger had wanted to resize a couple of items, but Potter had told her that it was unnecessary, reminding her that his cousin’s clothes had been far bigger. He’d even cracked jokes about it on multiple occasions. Gallows humour.

But Draco could see behind his façade. Bit by bit, things had changed for him, and to Potter, it must have felt like everyone's focus was, once again, on him. By keeping some details the way they were — smaller parts of the normality he'd established over seven years — it hadn’t felt like the rug was pulled from underneath him. Draco understood that Potter needed these pieces to stay sane.

Draco wishes that he could trade places with Potter. Nobody deserves this, especially not him. He’s one of the kindest people Draco has ever met, and so full of love for others it’s just streaming out of him. Teddy, in particular, brings out the cutest, most soft-hearted dork one could possibly imagine.

But that’s the private Potter, a side of him that only a few people get to see, and Draco is happy to be among that number. To the rest of the world, he’s the Saviour and a bloody good Auror, but as contrary as these two sides of him may appear at a first glance, they complement each other nicely. If anything, they make him a force to be reckoned with because he cares so fucking much.

Draco casts a Tempus and realises that it’s time to wake Potter up. Begrudgingly, he places his hand on the man’s shoulder and shakes him gently. Potter bats Draco’s hand away and grunts. With a loud frustrated sigh, Draco sits down next to him.

“Sorry, Potter, but it’s time. And you have to drink the potions, otherwise, we can’t step into the forest.”

His head falls sideways onto Draco’s shoulder before Potter takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes. In the meantime, Draco is reaching into their magically extended leather pouch and retrieves three small vials filled with different coloured potions. When he sits back up again, Potter downs them one after the other, not even bothering to ask what they’re for.

Draco extends his hand, palm upwards to Potter, waving his fingers and says, "Give me your wand."

"You're sure we can't…?"

"We could use magic. The problem is that some sources say that you shouldn't use magic near the flower or it’ll dissolve into nothing. And since we don't know where it is or if that’s true, we shouldn't risk it."

"Alright," Potter sighs, reaching into the front pocket of his hoodie and placing his wand in Draco's palm. "There you go."

Draco puts Potter’s wand in the pouch and rearranges some items before shrinking it down. Retrieving a long ribbon from his trouser pocket — the fibres of which are almost impossible to destroy — Draco ties the pouch securely to Potter's hair bun like they'd discussed beforehand. They can't afford to lose the pouch, and the stakes are high that they'll meet several strange creatures in there. It would, therefore, be very risky to carry it in any pocket.

After all, preparations are done, they get up and walk to the edge of the forest. Potter is about to enter it when Draco interlaces their fingers.

"It's a dark, unknown forest, and I'm not going to risk losing you," he says with a wink, hoping Potter can’t see the blush on his face.

* * *

11 June

Six days later, Draco is called to the Minister’s office. As he rides the elevator up to level one, he thinks he’s going to be sick. He knows this is about Potter and that it isn’t anything good. Why else would the Minister summon him? Draco had wanted to owl Potter but never did. Instead, he’s spent the last five days doing overtime at work and biting his nails while waiting for an owl, a Floo call, a Patronus, or a fucking smoke signal for all he cares. Despite all of that, his worries have followed him like a shadow through the days, manifesting in his mind, never leaving him alone.

Draco knows he’s right when he opens the door to Shacklebolt’s office and sees two other visitors — one of them with bushy dark hair, the other a redhead — already sitting in two chairs opposite the Minister.

“Hello, Minister. You wanted to see me,” Draco says, speaking around the lump forming in his throat.

“Yes, indeed, Unspeakable Malfoy. Please, take a seat.” Shacklebolt waits for Draco to sit down next to Granger before continuing. “I believe you already know why you’re here.”

“Potter,” Draco answers instantly.

“Yes,” Granger replies, turning towards him. The smile on her face is forced. “When you brought him in on your birthday, I thought his symptoms were simply a blowback from the curse which had ricocheted off his Protego,” she explains before mumbling something to herself which Draco isn’t able to catch. The words ‘Harry’ and ‘moron’ Draco _can_ hear however are causes for concern.

“I’m guessing you were wrong.”

“Well, I would’ve made a more thorough medical check if Harry had only told me he never cast a Shield Charm for himself. Instead, he decided to protect you and Teddy, which left him with no time to cast any other spells. The curse, or whatever it was, hit him straight in the chest.”

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!” Draco drops his elbows to his thighs, running his hands through his hair, exasperated, only then remembering he is sitting across the Minister for Magic. “Sorry, Minister, I—”

The Minister holds up one hand, stopping Draco from continuing and smiles understandingly. “Believe me when I tell you that my initial reaction was worse than yours.” He gestures towards Granger again. “Healer Granger, please continue.”

“I’ll make this short. Whatever hit him is affecting his magical core. His magic is slowly fading away, but that’s not all.” She pauses, reaching out one hand to Weasley and squeezing his hand once before continuing. “It’s his heart; it’s weak. It’s getting worse every day, and I’ve already tried everything I can think of.”

“And I guess you want me to check for any curses in the Department of Mysteries,” Draco concludes. He moves his hands to the armrests of his chair, clutching the wood tight. He has to keep his cool. He owes Potter that.

“Yes, and cures, too. But first of all, Ron was wondering—"

“I need you to share your memory of that day with us,” Ron chimes in, “it might be essential for the Auror investigation; we need all the information we can get. All the others have already sent us theirs, but none of them knows about Harry’s condition, and we’d like to keep it that way.”

Six dips into the Pensieve later, and they still don’t have much to go on. They haven't found anything new to narrow down whatever curse hit Potter, and Draco feels like he’s failed him. Minister Shacklebolt and Weasley walk out of the room after that, heading towards the DMLE, leaving Granger behind with Draco. They talk in minute detail about all the counter-curses and healing methods she’s already tried before they agree on daily meetings to exchange any sort of news.

After a quick goodbye, Draco sets himself to work. He goes through book after book, checks old scrolls and papyri, asks a couple of trusted co-workers for advice and assistance without telling them why he needs the information. This is nothing unusual; almost all Unspeakables have research projects and conduct experiments that they won’t share with the rest until they have actual results.

By Wednesday, Draco is mostly running on coffee, tea and potions. From time to time, he falls asleep at his desk. The worst part, he still has nothing to show for it. They’ve eliminated a couple of things, but that’s it. Potter’s condition worsens every day, and at such speed that all of them know he’s running out of time. More people have been alerted and tries to help out wherever they can: giving Potter a hand and looking after him, brewing potions with Granger, or trying to help Draco with his research.

* * *

Present day

Hand in hand, they make their way into the forest. The further they go, the thicker the fog becomes. They stumble over roots from time to time, unable to see the ground properly. Potter’s hand is hot and sweaty in Draco’s, his breath slowly getting shorter; all signs of exhaustion. Draco would prefer to take things slow, but they only have until dawn to find the flower.

Potter stops abruptly in his tracks and turns towards Draco. His face is so very close, and Draco watches as he brings his index finger to his lips. Then, he hears it. Loud sobs, broken only by snivels and cries for mummy — the whines of a child. Before Draco has time to think, Potter drags him closer to the source. The mist is thinning out bit by bit. They’re pacing deeper and deeper, and the moonlight shines through the branches of the trees, lighting their way.

They eventually find the child sitting against a tree, knees pulled up, arms slung around them. Potter and Draco kneel next to the boy, and Draco doesn’t really know what to do. He’s never been particularly good with children. Teddy is the exception, and even with him, it took Draco some time. He observed Potter, how he interacted with him, how he explained the world to him. His mother had been there for Draco when he was young, but it had been different. The shadow of his father had always loomed over them, watching them closely.

Potter reaches out, watching carefully to see if the child would shy away from his touch. He lays his hand on the boy’s forearm and starts speaking to him in a soft, soothing voice.

“You’ve lost your mummy?”

The boy nods, and Potter continues talking to him, calming him down. All Draco can do is kneel next to the pair and watch them while he feels the minutes passing by.

He knows he's the most horrible person for even thinking it, but he really wishes that they wouldn’t have met the boy. If they hadn’t, they might have been closer to locating the flower by now. Draco’s eyes wander to the boy’s face again, illuminated by the moonlight. There’s a hint of a smile on his face and the look of panic in his eyes has vanished. Draco eyes widen and he swallows hard when he sees them; two tiny horns hidden in his curly, raven hair and… _Oh, no_... Draco hasn’t paid attention to the conversation between the two for some time.

_Shit._

“Promise?” the boy says, reaching out his hand.

Potter is about to shake the small hand and Draco acts instantly, batting Potter’s hand away and hauling him to his feet.

"Run!" he instructs. And Potter does, sprinting with Draco as far away from the boy as possible.

They stop when Potter begins to stagger; Draco can’t risk him passing out or having a heart attack. After checking their surroundings for immediate threats, Draco lets go of Potter’s hand, pointing to the stump of a tree for him to sit down on.

“That was a Chort,” Draco explains while catching his breath. “They’re shapeshifters, and if you’d shaken his hand, you would’ve sold your soul to him.”

Potter opens his mouth to speak, but a bad cough prevents him from saying a single word. Draco walks up to him and loosens the ribbon tied to Potter’s hair, opening the pouch to take out a bottle of water that enlarges as it’s pulled out.

“Here, drink,” Draco tells Potter, handing him the bottle.

“Thanks.”

“You all right?”

“Yeah. As soon as my heart stops hurting, we can walk on.”

Draco doesn’t argue with that because they have to keep going; they have to try and find the flower. Technically, they should be feeling its magic by now, should’ve felt it growing stronger the closer they got, but he isn’t, and by the looks of it, Potter isn’t either. They've been in the forest for a good while, but Draco still can't sense the faintest spark of anything apart from the forest's own magic. He feels awful, because they’d given Potter hope, they’d made him believe in the chance of a cure.

* * *

18 June

At the crack of dawn, an owl taps loudly on Draco’s window, waking him from a deep slumber. He doesn’t even remember how he got home last night. He only went back to his flat in the first place because a senior Unspeakable forced him to. She said that if he gets caught sleeping at his desk one more time, they’ll make him stay at home for a while, no longer granting him access to any file, document, or book.

Draco rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands and trots — still dressed in his Unspeakable uniform — from his bed to the window. He lets the owl in and unties the tiny scroll from its leg. The bird flies away even before Draco has unfurled the minuscule scroll. He immediately recognises the script as Longbottom's.

_Hello Draco,_

_Floo to the Headmistress' office right now, no matter how bad your hair looks.  
Hermione is coming too. _

_Neville_

_P.S. You might want to put on trousers this time. We don’t want to repeat… you know what I mean. *wink*_

Draco rolls his eyes. It had only been one time. And it hadn’t been anything like that. He and Potter had simply arrived late to class in… well… not the proper school attire after a small incident with their Transfigurations homework.

Leaving Longbottom’s note on the windowsill, Draco straightens his robes and climbs into the fireplace. On the other end, Granger, Longbottom, and Professor McGonagall are already waiting for him. They all look as tired as he feels, with heavy, dark bags under their eyes and clothes all wrinkled. After a short greeting, Longbottom begins to speak.

“Hermione filled me in about Harry’s situation two days ago, and I might’ve found a way to cure him. It’s a hunch, but it’s better than nothing, right?”

Draco rubs his eyes one more time, just then realising that he’s still standing while the others are all seated. He quickly sits down next to Granger, gesturing for Longbottom to continue.

“Have you ever heard of Fern Flowers?”

“Yes, my mother used to read me stories about them from time to time. But they’re a myth, an old wive’s tale — nothing more, nothing less.”

“Yeah, I thought so, too. But then Hermione said…”

“I said we all thought the Deathly Hallows were just a children’s story, too.”

The shocked look on the Headmistress’ face tells Draco he isn’t the only one surprised by Granger’s words.

After minutes, Draco speaks again.

“Let me get this straight. The Deathly Hallows are real and you strongly believe that this flower might be, too?”

“Yes, and yes,” Granger answers. “There’s one thing we know for sure, though. The flower only appears on the night of the Summer Solstice.”

“That’s in three days.”

“That’s why you had to come asap,” Longbottom points out.

Draco spends the next two days at Hogwarts, going through all the tales and sagas he can find while the Herbology professor tries to find out as much as possible about the flower’s properties. Most of the sources are from Poland, and Longbottom finds enough evidence to narrow it down to Krzywy Las — the Crooked Forest.

Granger drops in and out, keeping them updated about Potter’s status, preparing him for the journey. Though some sources state it’s possible to transport the flower, they’re not going to risk it. They compile lists and go back and forth on everything, leaving nothing to chance. There’s one exception, though. In most tales, only the unbonded and pure souls are successful in retrieving the Fern Flower. Draco assumes it’s magic similar to Unicorns preferring virgins or some such rubbish. Hopefully, they’ve found a way around it, but Potter’s life might hinge on that one little detail.

After some heavy discussions, Draco convinces the four Gryffindors that he should be the one going with him. They make a final plan, all five of them, and on the 20th June, Potter and Draco board the train to Poland.

* * *

Present day

Draco turns around, giving Potter a bit of time to calm down and allowing himself to enjoy the scenery in front of him. There’s a swarm of Fairies flying through the air, glowing in different colours. Wood Nymphs are dancing around trees, leaving blooming flowers in their trails. And at the edge of his line of vision, there are… Centaurs; Draco hopes they can avoid meeting them. All the creatures are slowly but steadily moving in the same direction, and Draco’s instinct tells him that they should follow them.

Startled by the sound of a breaking twig behind him, Draco quickly whips his head around and, to his relief, it’s only Potter getting up.

“I think we should follow them,” Draco nods in the direction of the Fairies and Nymphs.

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever.” Potter shrugs. Draco raises an eyebrow at him, but he simply points at his watch. “It’s almost 11 pm, so let’s just go,” he says before intertwining their fingers again.

With a bit of distance, they follow the creatures for a while with no way of knowing if they’re getting closer to the fern or not. Or which fern it is. From what Draco’s read, the Fern Flower blooms on the most secluded plant. Some stories even mention creatures protecting the flower, the one part he hopes isn’t true. Another ground for concern is the flowers’ magical abilities. It ranges from giving the person finding it luck or wealth to healing powers or supernatural knowledge. All in all, the chances of Muggles seeing Thestrals are higher than for this mission to succeed.

They reach the bank of a river flowing through the wood. Small stones are leading from one side to the other — the only way across the water. Draco sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Of course, there has to be a river in the middle of the forest. Anything else would’ve been too simple.

“I’ll go first,” Potter says with such determination that Draco knows arguing with him would be pointless.

 _This must be what it’s like to work with him_ , Draco thinks as he watches Potter approach the water. If he’s scared, he’s not showing it. He’s focused on the task in front of him. He takes a confident step, then another. Potter is already in the middle of the river when Draco stops staring at him and hastens to follow.

As he catches up with Potter, there’s a loud bang in the distance, followed by a shockwave that hits them both. The only thing preventing Draco from falling into the water, unlike Potter, is the fact that he’s literally in Potter’s slipstream.

Potter’s swimming to the other side when Draco notices something making its way towards him in the water. Although it’s still underneath the surface, Draco can see the typical sickly green skin and the bloated face of the Topielec — a creature that once died in this river and is now trying to kill them.

Draco, instinctively, jumps in as well, hoping to fight off the creature before it can reach Potter. Its hand is already on Potter’s shoe, trying to drag him under when Draco launches at it, pulling it away so Potter can get out of the water.

The Topielec turns his attention to Draco now, and Draco holds on to one of the mossy stones trying to kick it away.

_Think, Draco; just think. You’ve read about them; you know how to stop them!_

He’s recently read about this creature at Hogwarts. It had been late, and he and Longbottom had smuggled Butterbeer into the library, hiding the bottles underneath the table because nothing but water was allowed there. The more they’d drunk, the more they’d giggled until Madam Pince had ordered them to be silent.

 _Silence_ , Draco thinks. _That’s it! Riddles._

Just as the creature is about to reach for his throat, Draco shouts, “What disappears as soon as you say its name?”

The Topielec freezes, furrowing its brows, and Draco seizes the opportunity and swims to the bank, running out of the water to where Potter is coughing on the ground. Draco leans against a tree, shoving wet strands of his hair out of his face and laughing hysterically. He doesn’t expect Potter to advance on him, pushing him, his face red with anger.

“Why did you do that?” he yells.

Baffled, Draco answers with the first thing that comes to his mind, “I couldn’t let you drown; you literally carry my wand in your hair.”

“I meant, why did you jump in?” Potter is panting because he’s still shoving Draco with a lot of effort.

“To save you, you ungrateful prat.”

“Did I ask you to do that?”

“Did I ask you to jump in front of me and take a curse for me?” Draco is getting furious. _What the fuck is wrong with him?_

“Why did you even come here? I know that Hermione or Ron would’ve come as well. Why do _you_ care if I live or die?”

_Because I can’t imagine life without you._

“Because I owe you. You saved my life. _Twice_.”

Potter is clutching his hand over his heart — the same way he’d done on Draco’s birthday after the curse had hit him — and sinks to his knees.

“Why do you care? Why does anyone care? I’m supposed to die. If anyone else had been hit by this curse, they would’ve only lost their magic eventually.” Draco frowns and kneels down next to him. “But the curse just had to hit me right in the chest and because I’ve already been killed once, because my body has been dead, it has affected my heart and now I’m dying once again.” Potter begins to cry. “Why can’t you just let me go? I was supposed to die eight years ago.”

Draco pulls him in, gently stroking his soaked hair and holding him tight as he listens to Potter sobbing into his chest. They stay like this for some time, until Potter goes still in Draco’s arms. Around them the forest is silent, the moon illuminating Potter’s face, his wild hair, and all Draco can do is hold him and wait. Feeling Potter beginning to shiver in his arms, he breaks the silence.

“We need to get out of our clothes before we catch something.”

Potter looks up at him with a tear-stained face and red-rimmed eyes and replies with a rough voice, “You just want to see me naked.”

“We were dorm-mates for a year; I know what you look like.”

“So you checked me out?”

Draco lets his head fall back and huffs out a laugh. “You’re unbelievable, Potter. Merlin and Morgana.” He nudges him with his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get moving. Since we’re already here, can we at least try to find the flower? Because I for one would like to know if it’s just a myth or not, and we need to get rid of any kind of fabric anyway before picking it.”

“I thought you were joking.”

“I never joke about things involving the retrieval of annually blooming, magical ferns and the chance to see your body in its full glory again. Come on, Potter, show me what you’ve got.”

After visibly rolling his eyes, Potter untangles himself and begins to undress. Draco mirrors him, peeling off his soaked clothes layer by layer until they’re standing next to each other, stripped. The wind around them isn’t too cold, and even if it was, Draco wouldn’t notice because his cheeks are heating up. He turns away, not daring to glance at Potter.

“This is weird,” Potter mutters under his breath, interlacing their hands. “We should just…”

“Yeah…”

Potter checks his watch again. “Shit, it’s almost 2 am, meaning we only have two hours left.”

They walk side by side in complete silence and avoid looking at each other. Now Draco understands what Weasley meant when he said: _“Being friends with Harry is a constant adventure, and all you can do is roll along.”_ They’ve only been in this forest for a couple of hours, and Draco’s already prevented Potter from selling his soul and being killed by a Topielec, and now they’re walking nude, hand in hand, through the forest. No one would ever believe him that this really happened. Even Draco can’t decide if this is a nightmare or the wildest dream ever, but it’s certainly _not_ real. It sounds more like a story from one of Lockhart’s books — the title reading _Wild in the Woods_ , _Pure with Potter_ or something similar.

The path is becoming narrower, forcing them to walk behind one another with Potter, of course, leading the way. Though his ribs are visible and his spine pokes out in some places, he looks good — definitely better than Draco thought he did underneath his now oversized clothes.

“Do you feel that? There’s something tingling inside of me,” Potter speaks over his shoulder, still walking.

An unflattering tone of red is now shading Draco’s cheeks after he’s just been caught staring at Potter’s arse. He clears his throat. “What did you just say?”

“I feel something like a tingle or flutter inside of me.”

Draco is about to make a snarky comeback when he feels it, too. It’s a weird sensation near his heart, and it’s growing.

“Of course. I can’t believe I’d forgotten about that. There was something in one of the books about needing to be close to nature. _This_ must be the flower’s magic.”

“Us getting naked is getting us closer to nature? So why didn’t we do it earlier?”

“Because I forgot, and you apparently didn’t read any material Granger gave you…”

Stopping abruptly, Potter lets go of Draco’s hand and places it on his waist, pulling him closer and directly behind himself. This is officially a nightmare; Draco’s body being pressed against Potter’s hot skin. Potter, who still has his back to him and isn’t saying anything.

He points to a place to their left, and when Draco tilts his head to see past him, he gasps. There it is — a small golden flower growing on a fern, faintly glowing under the moonlight. Even from this distance, it’s one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen.

But there’s a problem. Of course, there is. Things could never be easy, not when Potter is involved. Close to the fern, napping on an enormous stub is a gigantic, old man. His eyebrows are missing and his skin is tinted with blue — a Leshy, a forest spirit. Draco takes Potter’s hand off his waist, walks around and brings his finger to his mouth, telling him that they have to be silent. Walking closer as silent as they can, they hide behind a bush.

“Listen up, Potter,” Draco says quietly, his voice barely audible but still loud enough to overtone the snores of the Leshy. “In the event that he wakes up, we have to treat him with the utmost respect. A bit like, uhm… a really big Hippogriff. After you’ve shown your respect, you wait for him to make a move.”

“Maybe I should take the lead on this; you don’t have the best track record with these things,” Potter whispers into his ear, chuckling.

“Salazar, help me,” Draco groans quietly.

Untying the pouch from Potter’s hair again, Draco rummages through it until he finally finds what he’s been looking for and pulls out a leather-bound parcel.

“What is that for?”

“Did something hit you in the head? It’s the white, purified cloth we need because you have to be pure and innocent to pick the flower which I highly doubt either of us can claim to be. Now, let’s go. We don’t have much time left.”

They tiptoe to the plant and set to work. Draco is spreading out the cloth while Potter gets as close to the flower as possible without touching it. When everything is set, he shakes the fern, the flower landing in the middle of the cloth. So far so good.

As Granger suggested, Potter lies down, closing his eyes, probably to avoid looking at Draco. All that is left for Draco to do is to put the flower directly above his heart. However, the forest ground makes it impossible for him to position himself anywhere next to Potter without risking the flower landing somewhere else. They only have this one chance, and Draco knows it.

Letting out a shaky breath, he climbs onto Potter, straddling the man who yelps in shock. The snoring behind them stops and the pair looks horrified at each other, not risking to move. When Draco hears the spirit grunt, he slowly turns his head and sees to his relief he’s still sleeping.

“Be quiet,” Draco whispers harshly.

“Next time, warn me, ok?”

_Did he just say ‘next time’?_

Potter closes his eyes again, and Draco waits until his breath is calm. He moves slightly back and forth to find the perfect position. If he screws this up, that might be it. This is very likely the only chance for Potter to survive. Draco glances sideways to distract himself and his eyes fall onto Potter’s watch. 3:59. He looks up to the sky, which isn’t pitch black anymore. Fuck, the clouds are faintly shining in purple and pink.

The plant inside the cloth is still glowing and Draco hastily folds the cloth back and the flower lands on Potter’s chest, suddenly glowing almost blindingly in gold and yellow. Draco is forced to close his eyes, bringing his hands up as well to shield himself from the light. The body underneath him goes very still, Potter has stopped breathing. Draco unsuccessfully searches for a pulse.

When the bright light of the flower is gone, Draco opens his eyes. Underneath the olive skin, a light golden glow slowly spreads through Potter’s body. The place where Draco’s hand is still resting from searching for a pulse is shining brighter than the rest. Taken aback, Draco practically jumps off him, the light dimming when his hand is gone.

After checking that the Leshy still sleeps, curiosity takes over, and Draco touches Potter’s shoulder and immediately, the skin shines brighter, reacting to his touch.

_Seeing hidden things._

Draco discussed it with Longbottom; both of them took it literally, never even thinking about it like this — the flower revealing something. He touches him once more, over his heart this time. A feeling, all warm and fuzzy, flows through his body, reactivating feelings Draco buried the day he boarded the Hogwarts Express for the final time, leaving the safety and comfort of the castle, their shared dorm, behind him.

When the golden light has reached every inch of Potter’s body, it fades away. He slowly begins to breathe again and eventually, his bright green eyes snap open, finding Draco’s straight away. Potter looks away again, his face bright red.

“I think we need to talk, Harry,” Draco says softly, a faint smile on his face.

“Yeah…”

Harry props himself up on his elbows, opening his mouth to speak, but freezes all of a sudden. He doesn’t have to say anything; the heavy breaths of the Leshy tousle Draco’s hair, causing a shiver to run down his spine.

“After we got out of here,” Draco whispers, getting up slowly, helping Harry to his feet.

They turn to face the Leshy. Together.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of the [Seven Shades of Summer anthology](/series/1788955), a series of Drarry fics exploring Summer Solstice traditions from different parts of Europe.
> 
> There’s also a playlist created for this anthology that can be found [here on Spotify](https://spoti.fi/2TEsvGg); one song for each of the seven fics included in the collection.


End file.
